


Hide the Damage

by mrsfizzle



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eleventh Doctor Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV River Song, Protective River Song, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: "When one's in love with an ageless god who insists on the face of a twelve year old, one does one's best to hide the damage."
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	Hide the Damage

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at something romantic-ish (romance is NOT usually my thing). Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> This contains a couple of direct quotes from 7x5, Angels Take Manhattan. I own nothing.

A step out of sync.

It wasn't just the timelines, though those were out of sync as well. River used to think time ran backwards for herself and the Doctor, that his firsts were her lasts and vice versa. Lately, though, comparing the diaries had begun to prove that it was much more complicated than that. They weren't backwards; they were a scattered mess.

The mess wasn't just time. It was them. It was in the fact that she looked twenty years older and was hundreds of years younger than he was. It was in her training as an assassin and life as a scholar, and his ideology as a pacifist and history as a warrior. It was in the reality that she'd narrowly avoided her destiny as his killer, and nearly torn apart the universe to do so. Not exactly the wedding day she'd hoped for.

Most days, she could pretend the rift between them wasn't there. They ran and fought as allies, bantered and laughed as friends, kissed and made love as spouses. She could convince herself that having escaped his death was enough, that she was his soul mate and his only, if only for this moment in endless time.

And most days, she could pretend she didn't mind that it was all an illusion. One did not admire a sunset and expect to be admired in return. In those brief moments when the Doctor did look at her, really look at her, it filled her to the point of total amnesia. She forgot that she could not run forever. She did not care.

But then there were days like today. Days when he demanded too much from her, demanded that she escape from the grasp of a weeping angel without breaking her wrist, demanded it _because_ it was impossible. And then her response was too much: he needed a miracle to survive the day, so she gave it to him. Broke her own wrist, then lied about it to give him hope that his actions could change an unchangeable future. And then when he caught her in the lie, he gave her too much in return yet again: risked his own life to heal her with his regeneration energy. And she yelled at him, and struck him, and stormed away.

Every step out of sync, every reaction fueling the escalation. Every move deepening the damage, until there was too much to hide.

River knew she shouldn't be hitting her husband. Especially not with fresh regeneration energy running through her hand—it had added a bite to the slap that she couldn't easily account for. She had seen in his eyes that it had stung badly. But he always ran so fast, and spoke so fast, and thought so fast, she grasped for ways to gain his attention. That bit of pain had done the trick, but then she'd cut him clear to the quick with her words:

_That was a stupid waste of regeneration energy. Nothing is gained by you being a sentimental idiot._

_You embarrass me._

It was too harsh, but River didn't know what else to do. Regeneration energy transfers were inefficient—she should know. He could have died on the spot, and then where would they be?

But that was how the Doctor worked. He fixated on one thing, tearing down heaven and earth to save whoever it was he was bound to save that day, never mind who might reside in the heavens or earths he tore down. Never mind if he killed himself in the attempts. It wasn't that he didn't care about the consequences—it was that he couldn't always see what was right in front of his eyes. That was why the Doctor needed companions.

If it took a slap and the scolding of the century to get him to see it, River would be there for him. Even if it did force them even further out of sync. Because as much as she would have liked to just be his wife and his lover, it would never be what he needed from her. Not really.

He would always demand too much from her. She would always give him more than he'd bargained for. It was a role she was willing to play, and deep down, he must have known it was what he needed.

But oh! He certainly could sulk.

River slid into the back of the car beside him. He was quiet. Clearly hurting, physically and emotionally, and taking it with all the grace of a twelve-year-old. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for hurting him. She wanted to thank him for healing her broken wrist, which had been excruciating, and for making that sacrifice for her. Reckless or not, it was a precious gift. But those weren't words she could say.

She reached out to caress his face, and he didn't flinch away. He never flinched. No matter how hard she hit him, no matter how cruel her words became, he never shrank away from her. Never feared her. Not really. She didn't have to say anything; he already understood.

She gently pulled his head over to her shoulder, then reached down to take his hand. His eyes fluttered closed, and she let out her breath.

And just for a moment in endless time, they were in sync.


End file.
